


Sweet Dreams

by agingerwithawatson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-War, fred is alive suck it jk rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 19:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agingerwithawatson/pseuds/agingerwithawatson
Summary: Lavender Brown is stranded out in the middle of nowhere in rural Ireland; so is someone completely unexpected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Complete and pure wish fulfillment pairing from my RP days; I got mad that no one seemed to be writing about them. Might continue it, might let it stand as a one-off. Who knows.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Lavender Brown said tiredly to her mobile as her boss on the other line explained that her car to tomorrow’s photoshoot location had been trapped in the snowstorm they were currently having.

“Well, how am I supposed to get there, then? And where do I stay tonight? There’s no one else here except for the airline crew and they look about ready to pack it in.”

“I don’t know, Lavender. Work some of that magic you always seem to have up your sleeve and see if you can manage it to get to the nearest bed and breakfast,” her boss said, equally as tired. “Listen, I’ve tried everything. The shuttle wasn’t even supposed to take you from Dublin! You’ll just have to find somewhere in the village nearby to stay for the night and we’ll sort this mess out in the morning.”

Lavender leaned tiredly against the wall of the rest stop she was in and looked outside at the swirling snowstorm that had halted all of her plans. Her suitcases were huddled sadly on the other side of the empty room, where a clerk stood and stared at her anxiously.

“Yeah, all right. Well, I’ll tell you tomorrow if I’ve had to stay in this dodgy rest stop just outside of Glendalough.” She ended the phone call and walked back over to the clerk.

“Good news, I hope?” they asked cheerily.

“Not so much. Listen, do you rent out cars? There’s got to be a place to stay in Glendalough, right?”

The clerk bit their lip. “I—We do, but, Miss Brown, it’s awful out there. You’d be mad to try and drive in it—”

“So, call me mad, and give me the car.”

Twenty minutes later, and Lavender was standing outside with her coat pulled tightly around her and the keys to a rather depressing little Bug in her hand. The clerk had given her explicit directions on how to reach the Bed and Breakfast just outside of the little parish village, but Lavender had hardly been listening—she was already planning on driving just out of sight and disapparating when the clerk could no longer see her.

The snow was already beginning to let up as she chuckled to herself and trundled down off the main road. Once she’d reached a turn in it, she stepped neatly outside of the car, and after a few more tries than usual, transfigured her suitcases so they were small enough to fit in her pocket. She turned on the spot—

\--falling smoothly into a fresh pile of snow right next to the car.

“What on earth—” she muttered, but shook her head and spun on the spot again, grasping her way into nothingness.

This time she fell against the car with a loud ‘CLANG’ and she rubbed her shoulder in an annoyed way.

“You’re joking me right now,” she said out loud.

Ten minutes later, Lavender finally admitted defeat and retreated to the car where she could at least figure out what to do in the warmth. She couldn’t figure out why disapparition wasn’t working, but was frankly too cold to care and too aware of the snow beginning to fall again to waste any more thoughts on it. She started the car and pressed on, frantically trying to remember the clerk’s earnest directions; they’d said the building shouldn’t be longer than a thirty minute drive, and she’d already been driving for ten minutes at least when the little Bug began to sputter and cough.

“Oh, _honestly_ ,” she said exasperatedly, brushing her long dirty blonde hair out of her face and staring in disbelief as the car coasted to a stop and then stood still, giving one last cough before it went silent. She let out a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, willing herself not to panic.

“This is why you should just always have a broom, Lavender,” she said quietly to herself as she ran through options in her mind. Finally, she was left with the worst (and only real) choice—she would have to walk and hope for the best. She stepped outside of the car and after shooting one last loathing look at it, set out in the direction of what she hoped was the village.

After about ten more minutes, she could barely feel her feet or her toes, and any attempt she made with her wand to heat them up seemed to short-circuit and had no effect. Fearing deeply for the rest of the night, she pushed on, the minutes ticking away as the snow fell around her in thick flakes. Finally, she stopped, admitting that she had no idea where she was walking.

She cursed loudly and looked around. She’d seen a sign only five minutes back that told her she was walking in the right direction, but it was so difficult to know what was the road that she couldn’t be sure where to go anymore.

Exhausted, she pulled out her wand and pointed it straight in the air. After four tries, she was able to send up a brilliant shower of bright red stars, hoping that if she was at least close to anyone—Muggle or Wizard—they’d come investigate the display.

That small bit of magic exhausted her so much she nearly had to sit down, but she knew she could only stay put for a small amount of time—eventually, she would have to keep walking if nobody came.

She pulled her thick woolen overcoat even tighter around herself and allowed a few small tears to escape. This was the most absurd situation she’d ever been in—here she was, supposed to be planning for a debut shoot for her brand new Muggle fashion line, and instead she was stranded in the middle of rural Ireland and might not be found until—

She shook her head. This was ridiculous—she was a Witch, for Merlin’s sake! She stood up and began to march determinedly in the direction that she’d last been pointed. It took a minute or so before she began to see a shape before her. Nearly crying, she hopped up and down and waved her arms back and forth.

“Oh! Over here! I’m over here! Oh, help! Please!” she yelled as the figure approached her. Finally, she could just make out a rather tall, broad-shoulder figure who was wearing a gigantic parka.

They stopped only a few feet ahead of her and waved. Lavender rushed over to them and resisted the urge to jump into their arms.

“Hi! Oh thank Mer—goodness you’re here! Am I close to the Inn? I must be! Oh, thank you again! I can’t believe it!” she half-sobbed.

The person chuckled. “You know, if anyone but me had seen those stars over at the Inn they’d probably have never known what they were,” a deep voice said, and Lavender’s ears perked up.

“Meaning?” she asked smoothly, nearly crying as they began to walk toward what she presumed was heat and a nice bed.

“Meaning, you’re bloody lucky there was another Wizard staying out here tonight—dunno how you lucked out, but here we are.”

The man’s voice sounded familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“I-I know, I was just… Well, _none_ of my magic was working!” she said indignantly.

“Nah, it wouldn’t be, would it? It’s a magical storm. Why else would there be a blizzard in April?”

Lavender was dumbstruck and they continued to walk in silence, the snow now falling heavily around them.

“How do you know that?” she asked after a moment.

“I’m out here studying it. My brother and I are trying to see if we can recreate the conditions for… Well, anyway, I’m trying to figure out what causes it.”

A glowing light came into view and Lavender let out a sob of relief. She saw the hooded head turn toward her.

“Worried, were you?” he asked softly, reaching back and helping her climb through the last snow banks before they reached the front door.

The warmth of the Inn hit Lavender like the most loving embrace she’d ever felt, and she stood in the doorway for a few minutes, dumbfounded and trying to regain feeling in her limbs.

A very sweet-looking old woman in a dressing gown came rushing out of a doorway to her left.

“Oh, you poor dear! Here, come sit next to the fire.” She led Lavender over to an armchair and sat her down. “Now, I’m afraid I have more bad news. I have no rooms for tonight, lovey. But you’re more than welcome to kip down here on one of these and tomorrow we’ll sort you out—”

“Oh, I reckon she can stay with me,” the man said, and Lavender could hear the slightest tone of amusement in his voice.

She turned to retort something at him but stopped short as he shrugged off his overlarge coat and muffler.

“Fred?”

“Unless, of course, you’d like to stay on one of these armchairs, no offense, Mrs. Tillbury.”

Mrs. Tillbury inclined her head at Fred and smiled. “Shall I… I’ll make you a cuppa while you sort this out.”

Quick as a flash, she disappeared back through another door and left Lavender and Fred alone in the cosy front room. Lavender stood and crossed her arms.

“I—Well, pardon me, but this is… rather strange.”

“You’re telling me. Blimey, last I’d heard you were famous to Muggles for wearing clothing or something.” He hung his coat on a stand near the door and then held out his hand expectantly for hers. “At least, I think that’s what Charlie said. Have you seen him lately?”

She shrugged it off, handing it along with her muffler and hat to him. “I saw him just two weeks ago, actually. And, well, _famous_ , I dunno about that. But I guess I do _wear_ clothes for a living, yes. It is called modelling though, really.”

Fred shrugged after he’d hung her coat up. “Whatever tickles your dragon, Lavender. I’m the one in rural Ireland studying a magical storm for a joke shop.”

“Right, so… does your room… have two beds?” she asked tentatively.

Fred’s mouth went into a tight line. “Well, no. It doesn’t. But it’s a ginormous bed, and I’m more than willing to create some sort of barrier between us. I just figured it might be nice to have somewhere to put your things—Hang on, where _are_ your things?”

Lavender smacked her forehead and walked over to her jacket, plunging her hand into the pocket and removing two small suitcases the size of satsumas. She put them both on the ground and untucked her wand from the waistband of her woolen leggings.

“Well, I suppose I might be stuck with them like this for a bit, but here goes nothing.” She muttered as she pointed her wand at them. As expected, nothing happened, but she kept trying, feeling more exhausted each time.

“Lavender, it’s nearly impossible to do as much as a simple whiff of magic right now, let alone—Merlin!”

Lavender had been trying this whole time to restore her suitcases back to their normal size, and her wand had suddenly let out a loud ‘BANG!’ and puff of gold smoke. She staggered sideways and Fred reached out to grab her by the shoulders.

“Steady on there, love. Erm, how did you _do_ that?” he asked delicately.

Lavender looked up at him incredulously, her hand on her forehead from the headache she was getting.

“Sorry, Fred, did you forget that magic school we all went to for seven years?”

“Well I went for six-and-a-half years but yeah I get what you’re saying. It’s just… well, like I said, this is a _magical_ storm.”

“Yeah, I know! It’s been really hard for me to do any magic tonight. I get it. My suitcases are still tiny, aren’t they? That’s probably why I’ve got this splitting headache now.”

Fred bit his lip and smiled at her.

“No… Lavender, I don’t think you’re cottoning on. You’re not supposed to be able to do magic during these storms. At all. Look,” he said as he pulled his wand from his back pocket. He waved it at the cheerful crackling fireplace in front of them.

“ _Scourgify_ ,” he muttered. Absolutely nothing happened. He turned to look back at Lavender and shrugged. “Haven’t been able to do a lick of magic in about ten hours, now.”

“But how—” She was cut off by the reappearance of Mrs. Tillbury with a tray of tea and a smile.

“Right, am I taking this up to Mr. Weasley’s room for you or shall I put it right here on the table next to you.

Fred jumped up from his crouching and backed away from Lavender, hastily running his hand through his hair. He looked slyly over at her as she seemingly mulled the idea over in her head.

“Well, it would be nice to sleep in a bed… you don’t happen to have a little camp bed I suppose?” she asked tentatively.

Mrs. Tillbury paused and seemed to be thinking. “Well, now that you mention it, I think I might actually have one tucked away. But surely you don’t want to sleep on one of those!”

Lavender stood up and shook her blonde hair out of her face. “Oh, no, really, it’s fine.”

“I’ll stay on it,” Fred heard himself saying. Both of the women turned to look at him, Lavender with a funny expression on her face. “No, really. I can set it up in my room and Lavender can have my bed for the night.”

“Fred, no, I—”

“Well that settles it then! Let’s get this tea upstairs and then I’ll go poke around for that bed while you get comfortable. I’m sure a hot shower wouldn’t be remiss, my dear. Go on, go!”

She was stood expectantly at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Lavender.

With a big sigh, Lavender scooped her tiny suitcases into her jacket pocket and began up the stairs.

Once Mrs. Tillbury had set the tea tray down on the small table next to the window (whose curtains were drawn and fastened), she disappeared out of the room. Lavender awkwardly sat down on the snowy white bedspread, looking around the room.

It was rather charming, with exposed wooden beams and a brick wall with a fireplace in it just next to the bed. Everything in the room was made of either wood, or stone, and Lavender got the feeling that this little bed and breakfast prided itself on how old it felt.

The bed itself felt like absolute heaven to her, but she knew she was also freezing and needed a hot shower more than anything. She looked over at Fred, who had been scribbling something down hastily on the desk in the opposite corner of the room, and he looked up and smiled.

“Bathroom’s through there, and there’s clean linen under the sink. Don’t worry, I won’t peek, I promise,” he said cheekily.

She walked by him and smirked, shaking her head.

A half an hour later, she was warmer than she’d been in recent memory and wrapped in a cosy houserobe. She exited the bathroom quietly to see Fred had, indeed, set up the small camp bed across from the King size one, and was sitting on it, scribbling notes into a notebook.

He looked up at her as she walked over to her suitcases.

“Mrs. Tillbury went back to sleep, but she told me to show you where the kitchen was if you needed any food. Are you hungry?” he asked, looking back down at his notebook.

“Not particularly, no. I think I’m too tired to eat. Erm,” she sat down on the bed and clutched her houserobe around her. “Do you happen to have… Any pyjamas I could borrow?”

Fred strolled over to the armoire where his things were (he’d been staying in the bed and breakfast for over a week, now) and pulled it open. He bit his lip to stifle the strange urge he had to laugh. While he rifled through his things, he spoke with his back to her:

“Forgot your jimjams, did you?”

“I have them! They’re just… you know, a bit too small for me at the moment.” She giggled and rubbed her forehead. “This is really strange. I mean, your brother is one of my best friend’s, thankfully, so it’s not as strange as it could be, but… er… still strange.”

“So, how did this chance meeting happen, anyway? Why are you up in a remote village in Ireland?”

“Well, I dunno if you know, but I’ve got that Muggle fashion line you mentioned, and we’re shooting my first big campaign for it in the mountains tomorrow. Or, well, we were supposed to be.” She looked at the shuttered window. “Dunno if that’ll happen, now.”

Fred pulled out a shirt and grinned to himself, turning to Lavender.

“Here, you can have this one. You should feel right at home in it.” He tossed it to her and she caught it one-handed.

“Is this—” She held it in front of her. “How do you even have this? How has it not completely disintegrated yet?”

In her hands was a scarlet and gold, long-sleeved, cotton Jersey. She turned to look at the back of it.

“’Weasley, 19’. What number was George, again? I never paid attention to your jerseys.”

Fred laughed. “George was number 18. Possibly the only time he got mentioned ahead of me in anything. And to answer your question, I still have it because that was actually a practise Jersey I brought home one year and forgot to bring back to school.”

Lavender held it up again, chuckling. “Well, this is just what we need to make this night even more awkward. I’ll go put it on, shall I? Just promise me you won’t be completely undone by the sight of me in a Quidditch jersey.”

Fred laughed out loud as she disappeared again into the washroom, but couldn’t help the pink tinge that appeared on his cheeks. He had thought that it would be funny, something they could laugh over (and they had), giving her that jersey, but now…

Lavender returned, striking a silly pose in the doorway. The jersey itself was designed to be long, mercifully, and so it came down to just above her knee. Her hair was still damp and tousled from her shower and Fred forced a laugh.

 _Merlin, maybe you **should** go sleep downstairs_ , he thought to himself.

Lavender, seemingly immune to his awkwardness, strode over to the bed. She finished repacking her suitcase and placed it on the floor, and then climbed underneath the cosy white quilt and sat, staring across the room at Fred on his meagre cot.

“Well, the jersey suits you,” Fred said casually. “How come you never went out for Quidditch, anyway?”

Lavender rolled her eyes. “Me? Try and join that super special elite club reserved only for the sporty students? I would have been laughed out of tryouts. No, I was much more comfortable making up horoscopes and crushing on every boy in my year.”

“Oh? Have you ever played?”

“I used to play as Keeper all the time with my cousins. I got pretty good, too. Never cared about it the way you lot did, though. Especially not after witnessing the spectacular meltdown that happened in my fifth year when you all got banned.”

Fred frowned. “Merlin, I’d forgotten that. Sometimes I even forget that we skived off mid-term.”

“The school was never the same after that year, anyway, so you didn’t miss much. It was a bit better after… well, you know, everything. Quieter, but almost like itself.”

Fred leaned uncomfortably against the wall, watching Lavender’s face as she talked.

“Oh, yeah? You went back?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, really. I thought I might be a Healer for a bit, so I went back. McGonagall was a great Headmistress, but you just… well, _you know_.”

He watched as her gaze turned thoughtful, and she looked toward the empty fireplace. He seized this quiet moment to drink in her appearance properly.

When he’d known her, she’d been a rather loud and gangly teenaged girl (who was, as a matter of fact, dating his rather loud and gangly teenaged brother). Now, clearly, her height had ended up working in her favour, and she had grown into her nose and heart-shaped face with such grace he found that the longer he looked at her, the less he could remember what she’d looked like as a child. Her hair was certainly blonder than it had been when he’d known her, and it was long and wavy, coming down to rest just at her waistline. Her face reminded him of the older renaissance Witch paintings that had lined the Hogwarts walls; he supposed her natural resting expression was just serene.

After a few minutes, she turned to look back at him, smiling softly.

“Sorry, I still zone out about it sometimes.”

He held up his hands. “I know. I think most of us are the same. I was having lots of nightmares until about last year,” he said candidly.

Lavender barely reacted to this revelation but instead nodded. “Pavarti, too. I think I must have blocked a lot of what happened out, because I don’t get them.” She laughed. “My mum always used to say that my stubborn refusal to acknowledge anything I didn’t like would come in handy one day.”

He laughed, too, and felt himself relax in her presence even more. Pretty soon they were chatting about what they’d been doing for the last eight years (he, working with his brother to expand his shops and research into charmwork and transfiguration for the Ministry; she, modelling in the Muggle world and eventually designing her own brand). Forgetting how tired she was, Lavender reboiled the water Mrs. Tillbury had left them with the electric kettle and made them both a cup of tea, inviting him to sit on the bed.

“Do you talk to Ron at all?” Fred asked, after she’d had a fond trip down memory lane about how silly she’d been at school.

“Me? No! Not because it’s weird or anything, but we don’t really have any friends in common, I don’t think. I mean, I still talk to Pavarti and Dean and Seamus, but that’s only ‘cause Dean’s a photographer now, and Seamus’ family is good friends with mine. And, of course, Charlie, but really, the only reason we even met was because his boyfriend is such a well-respected photographer.”

Fred nodded, finishing the last of his tea and setting it down on the floor. “Yeah, we all sort of…”

“Faded away?”

“Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t in your class, but the same happened to most of us after, I think.”

Lavender looked down at her empty mug thoughtfully. “You know, it’s weird, but sometimes I feel like we’re all avoiding one another, in a way. I mean, my mom is still friends with the majority of her house from her graduating year, but us?”

“What house was your mom in?” Fred asked, mostly to sidestep the (probably valid) point she’d made.

Lavender smirked. “Don’t get all weird about it, but Slytherin. My dad, too. They were a bit upset when I got put in Gryffindor, actually. But not in the creepy, blood-purist way, just in the normal family pride way.”

“Your parents were Slytherin?” He asked, aghast.

She laughed. “Well, yeah, we’re pure-bloods. Isn’t that where most of us go, usually?” she teased.

“So, you think you’d be a Slytherin if you weren’t placed into Gryffindor?”

“Oh, I know I would be. The Hat itself mentioned it to me when I was sorted.”

“Yeah? The Hat barely talked to me. Just put me in Gryffindor. Actually, now that I think about it, I think it mentioned something about how many Weasleys it had seen already, but I honestly wasn’t listening.”

“So, which house do you think you’d be in, then? If not Gryffindor.”

Fred furrowed his brow. “Me? I think I’d be… now, don’t laugh. Ravenclaw.”

Lavender stared thoughtfully at him. “No, that makes sense. You and your twin were near geniuses, and creative about it, to boot. At least you and George got sorted into the same house. ‘Vati and Padma got separated.”

“Oh, right. The Patil twins. Yeah, I can’t imagine.” He shuddered.

Lavender curled her knees up to her chest and propped her chin on them, staring ahead at the wall behind Fred. She smiled.

“I fancied you in school, you know.” This was said so matter-of-factly, so casually, that Fred might have thought she was telling him what she ate for dinner the other day.

He cleared his throat and then laughed. “Yeah? I mean, I’d love to say the same for me but… I don’t think I really knew who you were until you and Ron started dating.”

Lavender laughed in return. “Oh, I know. It wasn’t this grand unrequited love or anything, but I always thought you were cute, and it was dead funny to watch you pester people in the hallways outside of class. I was just thinking of how Lavender in fifth year would murder me to be in this position right now. And yet all I can think about is going to bed.”

She finished that thought with a yawn and finally looked away from the wall to meet Fred’s eyes.

“We should sleep, you’re right.” Fred unfolded his tall frame from the bed, stretching. He walked over to the cot which was easily half his size and sat down on it; the springs creaked noisily.

Lavender had got under the covers on one side of the bed and was watching him with an amused expression.

“Oh, come on, now. You can’t actually believe I’d let you sleep on that horrid contraption.”

“Pardon?”

“Fred, honestly. Here, we can put some pillows between us if it makes it less weird, but you _can’t_ sleep on that bed. You barely fit on it! And this one is ginormous. Really, I insist.” She patted the other side of the bed to punctuate her sentence.

Fred raised an eyebrow and slowly walked over to the bed, sitting on it. “Are you sure, Lavender? I really don’t mind. I did offer for a reason.”

“I’m sure. I think surviving a wizarding battle in a great war kind of bonds you for life, anyway,” she teased. “Plus, Charlie will have your head if you try anything.”

Fred slid underneath the covers and laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” he replied quietly.

She reached out and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. As their eyes adjusted, neither of them talked.

“S’weird to think about, actually. The last time I saw you, Fenrir…” he trailed off.

Lavender shifted and turned to look at Fred. “Yeah, I still have scars on my chest and arm from him. Thank god for Photoshop, is all I can say.” Her words were breezy, but her tone was a bit more strained. “Last time I saw you, I think your family thought you were—”

“Dead, yeah. That wasn’t fun for them, as I’m told. But, hey, turns out I wasn’t! Spell damage is nutty.”

Another silence fell between the both of them, their breathing almost synchronising in the stillness of the room. She heard him turn on his side and could just make out his blue eyes looking at her.

“So… how long did you have this crush on me?” he asked.

She burst out laughing. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you!”

“I’m just curious! From what I can remember you were in pretty high demand once you and Ron called it quits. It’s a nice little ego stroke.” He chuckled. “Go on, humour me.”

Lavender sighed, still smiling to herself. “Okay, but please don’t think I’m crazy or something stupid like that.”

“Ah, no promises.”

She sighed. “Well, I doubt you remember this, but when I was sorted, you and your brother were the only two people who kind of really stood up and cheered for me. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was because I was the first Gryffindor sorted in our year, but… Well it stuck out to my nervous eleven-year-old mind. And I kind of got it in my head that it was a sign or something—Merlin, you know how it is when you’re that young, it sounds so stupid to say it now.

Anyway, it was really nothing for a while. I just thought you were funny and cute, and that was it. But then, when I was in fourth year, you and your brother had been sitting in the common room really late, doing something about those things you used to sell to everyone—”

“Snackboxes! I remember those. Merlin, we never gave you one, did we?”

“No, you didn’t,” she laughed. “Anyway, I had sort of fallen into a doze on the couch after doing my astronomy homework that night, and I heard your brother go off to bed—and I know it was him because he called goodnight to you—but you came over and I guess you saw me on the couch, and you did just the sweetest thing. You took a blanket from one of the chairs and put it on me, and then whispered ‘sweet dreams’!”

Fred was flabbergasted. “Wow, you’re right, I don’t remember any of this.”

She let out another tinkling laugh. “Why would you? I was just some small fourth year girl that you’d maybe seen at breakfast once or twice. You had no reason to. But in my mind, it was as good as a declaration of some secret yearning. Of course, I never acted on any of that and ended up dating your brother so, all’s well that ends well. Plus, I had about twenty different crushes going at one time usually.”

“And when did you stop?”

“Well, probably right around the time the Wizarding World realised that Voldemort was back and the school was overtaken by a load of psychotic Death Eaters. I was a bit preoccupied, then.”

“Right, I’d forgotten you were at school during that.”

Lavender raised an eyebrow. “Lucky you.”

Another heavy silence, and this time Lavender shifted so she could see his face a bit better.

“What about you? What ever happened to that girl—Angelina? I haven’t checked the wizarding papers in ages, did I miss an engagement and wedding announcement?”

Fred laughed. “No, Angelina and I didn’t date after school. She’s married to a nice muggle bloke, now, actually. No,” he sighed heavily. “I am, much to my mother’s chagrin, completely unattached. But aren’t you dating some movie star or some ridiculous thing like that?”

Lavender propped herself up on her elbow. “Me?! No! Where did you read that nonsense?”

“I think Ron mentioned it, dunno how long ago now, though.”

“I mean, there was a _very brief_ encounter with one, but not anything recent.” Lavender felt herself blushing suddenly and she looked away. Though the bed was large, Fred was close enough that if she stretched out her arm she could touch him. She wondered briefly if she wanted to do that.

In the dead silence, Fred suddenly let out a chuckle.

“What?” Lavender asked, wondering why her voice sounded so small.

“Well, if you’d told me last week I’d be sharing a bed with Lavender Brown and discussing my school relationships with her, I’d have thought you’d gone insane.”

“It is strange. I don’t think I ever imagined I’d admit I had a schoolgirl crush on you. Not out of embarrassment, just… never thought it would come up,” she giggled, and then tried and failed to stifle a large yawn.

“All right, I think we’ve chatted enough. We should sleep,” Fred said gently.

Lavender nodded sleepily, her eyes already drooping. “’Night, Fred. Thanks for coming out in the snow to find me.”

Fred smiled to himself as his eyes closed. “Night, Lavender.”

\--

Lavender’s eyes snapped open as a loud bang shook the room. She flew out of bed, tripping over a desk chair in her search for her wand.

“Whazzat—Who’s there? Wha—” she stammered, and she heard Fred get out of bed behind her. She squinted in the darkness at the window, which seemed to have been blown open by the blizzard and was blowing snow and frigid winter air into the room.

“S’just the wind, Lavender,” Fred said groggily from behind her. She walked over to the shutters and forced them closed, drawing the curtains after them; she threw her wand back onto the night table and sat down on the side of the bed, her head in her hands.

The bed sagged slightly as Fred sat down beside her.

“That is the last time I ever talk about the Battle of Hogwarts as a bedtime story,” Lavender murmured. “It’s been ages since I’ve panicked like that over a noise in the middle of the night.”

Tentatively, Fred reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him without even thinking, her body trembling. He put his other arm around her and stroked her back.

“It’s okay, I know. I had the same thoughts.”

“That’s how they used to come get us, sometimes,” she mumbled against his chest. “They’d come in the middle of the night and drag one of us out of bed and accuse our parents of being half-blood or muggle-born or blood-traitors or, Merlin forbid, a part of the resistance. I don’t think I slept that entire year.”

She pulled away from him and shook her head. “Sorry, this is probably the last thing I should be talking about; it’s just… that stupid window. It sounded so much like a door flying open…”

As if she couldn’t help it, she looked over toward the door to the room in the darkness. Then, she laid back down on her back, her hands covering her face again. Fred crawled back over to his side of the bed, but stayed a bit closer than he’d been before.

“Do you want me to talk about something else?” he asked after a minute or so.

He thought he saw her nod, so he began to talk about the research he was doing, and why he and George were doing it. As he was talking, he watched her inch closer to him, her eyes focused so intently on his face he wondered if she was reading his lips to understand him. Finally, she was only about a few inches way, and he trailed off.

“Oh, keep talking, please, it’s helping me keep my mind quiet right now,” she pleaded after a moment. “Talk about anything, really. Tell me about the village you lived in when you were younger, Ron mentioned it once and it sounded so sweet.”

Fred blinked and smiled slowly, and then began to talk about The Burrow, and the field they all played Quidditch in, and the nearby village that had plenty of pretty shop girls to flirt with. He could see her face softening, relaxing, and he kept talking, telling her about the gnomes in his front yard and the ghoul in the attic, and how he’d promised his parents they’d buy them a better house but his parents had laughed and told him that was impossible.

Lavender laughed quietly at that, scrunching her nose up and letting a loose piece of hair fall into her eyes. She brushed it away and exhaled deeply.

“Thanks, Fred. That was exactly what I needed—someone to help me remember the world’s still turning outside.”

He smiled back at her, not bothering to move away. His heart was hammering against his chest as he looked at her, and they stared at one another for a moment or two.

Lavender could feel heat spreading across her cheeks and chest, and she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head ever so slightly and laughing quietly at some private joke.

The hair she’d brushed away before fell back into her eyes and before she could move it again, Fred’s hand reached out and brushed it aside. He rested his hand against her cheek and she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

“How are you feeling, now?” he asked quietly, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

Lavender’s eyes opened slowly, and her pupils dilated as they readjusted to the night.

“A little bit like an awestruck schoolgirl, actually,” she whispered.

He couldn’t have told anyone (not even himself) what made him do it, but the next thing Fred knew, he was kissing Lavender Brown, tangling his hands in her hair and pushing his body so flush against hers it was impossible to tell where one began and one ended. He pulled away, breathless, and traced her bottom lip with his thumb. Lavender was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her lips already swollen.

“Merlin, I’ve been waiting _hours_ to do that,” he growled.

“What? Trace my lips? Ramble on about your childhood? Mmph!” He cut off her next thought by pressing his lips to hers once more, then rolled so her was pinning her to the bed with his body.

“That bloody uniform, Lav. That’s what did it.” He ground his hips against her and she let out a small moan. He leaned forward and nipped along the bottom of her jawline, his hands tracing the sides of her body.

“Jeeze,” she laughed breathlessly. “If I’d known in school that it was this easy to turn you on… Oh!” she gasped as he tugged the bottom of his Quidditch shirt up and his fingers ghosted over her underwear.

“Do you _ever_ stop talking?” he teased. His fingers found themselves between her thighs and he sat-up slightly, nudging her knees apart with his own. “Is there an off-button around here somewhere? Ah,” he smirked mischievously as his hands dipped under her panties and she shivered. “Found it.”

He started slowly, his fingers making small slow circles around her clit, and every once in a while, he would slide a finger deep inside her, just long enough to make her buck her hips up toward his hand. He kissed her neck and her lips and her eyelids and her cheeks—anywhere he could reach, really—and murmuring filthy nothings into her ears.

“What a sight,” he said breathlessly, sitting up and sliding his fingers out of her, causing her to whimper. She moved to pull the jersey over her head but he stopped her.

“No, no, leave that on. We’ll take it off later,” he said with a wicked smile.

Lavender huffed and sat up, leaning back on her elbows. “Fred Weasley, I don’t know what you’re playing at, but one of us is going to get naked right now and if it isn’t me,” she trailed off, tugging at the worn grey t-shirt he was sporting.

With surprising quickness, she sat up on her knees and pushed him backwards, straddling his hips with her thighs. After she’d made quick work of his shirt, she leaned down and kissed his collarbone lightly. She trailed kisses down his abdomen, enjoying how his breath began to quicken and how hard he was trying to keep his body still under her touch.

He looked up at her and his breath caught in his throat; something about the combination of his old Quidditch jersey and the knowledge that she’d had a crush on him years ago was enough to make the blood rush from his head straight to his groin. A thought occurred to him and he stopped her, pulling her up so he could kiss her.

“Lav, I don’t want to ask this, but… you and Ron… didn’t—”

In response, she let out a tinkling laugh. “No, we were sixteen and at a boarding school.”

She slid off of him and laid down by his side, turning his head so she could kiss him again. He pulled her body in to his and lightly traced the outside of her thigh, enjoying the warm body next to him and her soft breathing.

“Fred,” she whispered his name like a litany. “Please.”

He responded with a kiss and moved so she was under him again, her body nearly matching his and her skin now burning hot with desire. His hands found the barrier of her thin underwear again and gently tugged it down; she responded by lifting her hips, her blue eyes burning into his. When they were off, she shyly prodded at the top of his own briefs and he grinned.

“I think we can take care of this first, no?” His fingers ghosted under the hem of it and she bit her lip.

“Okay, but… when you see them, just don’t get all weird, okay?”

Fred was confused momentarily, until she pulled the jersey off and he remembered what she’d said earlier in the night:

_“Yeah, I still have scars on my chest and arm from him.”_

The scars were practically glowing white under the little moonlight seeping in under the curtains, and Lavender laid back down, biting her lip. They stretched like pearly flashes of lightning from her right breast all the way to just above her elbow on her left arm.

“May I?” Fred asked quietly, his finger lightly touching one of them. She smiled and nodded. “Bill has these, you know. His are on his face, mind you. D’you have a preference for raw meat, now, too?” Fred asked cheekily.

Lavender let out a barking laugh. “I do, but I actually always did, so I dunno if that’s related.” She went quiet momentarily while he traced the path of a few of them. “They’re cursed, you know. Mungo’s doesn’t think they’ll ever figure out exactly what effects they have on me, if any.”

Fred said nothing, just kept following the paths of them with his fingertips. Finally, he leaned down and kissed the one just in the middle of her sternum.

“Not that it matters much, but… I think they’re gorgeous.”

Lavender flushed, and moments later pulled him up to her lips and crushed them to his. She fumbled with the tops of his underwear.

“Now,” she growled. “Take them off now.”

He quickly pulled them off and tossed them off the side of the bed. Lavender pulled him toward her so the entire length of their bodies was together, and she parted her thighs. His hand dipped between them again and soon Lavender’s eyes were squeezed shut as he began to touch her with an almost frantic desire. She squirmed, her hands finding the nape of his neck and winding themselves in the wiry red hair they found. Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer and she uncoiled like a tight spring, gasping out loud, her thighs tightening around his hips like a vise.

Panting, she took her hand and guided him into her; Fred groaned out a string of expletives under his breath. Neither of them moved, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek, and then his lips, and then his nose, and his eyelids, while he seemed to try and re-orient himself.

Finally, he began to move almost lazily, each stroke slow and laborious, making her writhe with impatience beneath him. To quell her obvious restlessness, he leaned down and kissed her slowly, then moved to her ear where he nipped the earlobe playfully.

Lavender arched into him, her hands moving down his back as she did so. She pulled his ear closer to her mouth and whispered just one word:

_"Please."_

Fred drove into her faster, and leaned back from her, gazing down at her body as they moved together. She lifted her legs so they were wrapped around him and let her head fall back and her mouth fall open. He let out another groan and began to move even quicker, his release building every second.

“Merlin, Lav, _fuck—_ ”he cursed as he thrust into her over and over again. She was at a complete loss for words and was instead breathing out encouragements and half-mumbled desires as her body built up to another release.

As she spasmed around him for another time, Fred felt himself let go completely, and he collapsed forward onto her, his head finding the crook of her neck.

When the shockwaves finally wore off, he lay there for a bit longer, breathing heavily. They were both covered in sweat, but Lavender didn’t seem to be in too big of a rush to move, either, so he contented himself with lightly kissing the small area behind her ear.  
Finally, he moved off of her, lying on his back and staring at the exposed beams in the ceiling.

Lavender shyly stood up after a moment, walking over to where he’d thrown the jersey after he’d ripped it off her and put it back on. She bit her lip as she turned back toward the bed where Fred was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Be right back,” she whispered, and darted into the washroom. In the yellow light, she washed her face and stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t stop smiling to herself, and she was possessed by the crazy urge to dance and laugh and shout, but she was also exhausted and wanted to sleep.

She left the washroom and tiptoed back to her side of the bed, but Fred reached out and grabbed her and pulled her into him. He kissed her neck and nuzzled his head into the space between her shoulder and head. She couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud.

“What?” he asked sleepily.

Lavender turned in his arms and kissed him again, pulling away to look at his face.

“Please don’t think I’m being insane, but I’m just so happy right now I could burst. I don’t even know why; in fact, I think _I’m_ worried I might be crazy. Maybe I’m just tired—” she rambled on before Fred silenced her with another kiss.

“Lav, listen, me too. But it’s almost four o’clock in the morning. You need sleep, and so do I.” He kissed her again, gathering her completely in his arms and tangling one of his hands in her sweet-smelling wavy blonde hair. She melted against him, sighing deeply into his arms and then when she pulled away she yawned.

“Okay, you’re right. But I mean it—don’t you agree? Doesn’t this just feel…” she trailed off, blushing.

Fred grinned back at her and then closed his eyes.

“Yeah, it does. Sweet dreams, Lav.”


End file.
